Eating Tarantulas

I don't do spiders.

Unless they are teeny weeny and a variation of demure Daddy-Long-Legs, I call on my friends to dispose of these 8-legged terrors. Arachnid. It sounds like an evil creature straight out of a horror movie or worst nightmare.

The great C.S. Lewis wrote that he'd "rather meet a ghost than a tarantula." Sensible man. We must be kin. He says the problem is that they "have all the works on the outside...their angular limbs, their jerky movements, their dry, metallic noises..." I couldn't have said it better, my good man. The trouble with spiders is that they look to be created inside out. God's creativity I suppose.

Anyway, I just don't do spiders.

They are not welcome in my room, they are unwelcome on my body, and they are most unwelcome in my mouth! Or so I thought...

Ladies and gentlemen, last night my friends and I sat at the beautiful and refined (no sarcasm intended) Romdeng restaurant in Phnom Penh and ordered tarantulas. It took all of my might and sanity to touch one of the three fried spiders resting on a plate in front of me. They weren't cut up to be indistinguishable, they weren't mixed in with anything to hide their true identity. These were STRAIGHT UP TARANTULAS, standing on the tips of their toes and looking like any tarantula would were it alive.

My body tensed and could not let go the idea that the pack of three spiders would wake from their slumber and start running around the table and onto my lap. What if they weren't really dead, huh? BUT, beside my completely legitimate questions and real-life scenarios, I asked myself, would I ever have the chance to eat these horrifying... things again?

So, after about 5 minutes of mental preparation... one leg. My friend tore off just one leg for me to sample. A little fuzzy between my thumb and index finger, if I blurred by eyes enough it looked like a pull of beef jerky. I ate, I conquered. VICTORY! And it didn't even taste that bad. But before the victory dance, Halt! Could one leg, just one morsel constitute really eating a spider? My courage and my pride said, NO!

My mind was set. My fingers? Getting there.

After my poor digits (what were they getting out of this) stopped shaking, I picked up a spider by the plump bottom section, dipped it in some salty sauce and took a breath.

Don't think.

Eat.

It was a truly a proud Roya moment. As I chewed, it was amazingly just like eating any "un-spider" food. I know, I know, it's hard to believe after I was so worked up about it. But I realized that it was the visual that was most vomit-inducing, not the actual eating of it. Yes indeed, Mr. Tarantula was a little crunchy, but so are corn chips (okay, maybe that's a euphemism at best, but work with me.) The body was a little squishy too, but so are grapes. Unlike grapes though, the inside of the mid-section and head were so fried that they were pretty hollow.

And that's that. My tarantula eating experience.

Don't let it fool you though. If I see an alive tarantula I will a) Run madly b) Upon arriving at running destination, jump on to chair or table or other elevated post c) Scream for assistance d) Shiver with fear.

I don't do living, breathing spiders.

I had to add this awesome pictures of my friends obviously loving the spider experience.